Conditions of my Parole
by PainIsMyGame
Summary: My first fanfiction ever. My take on Vladimir's existence in the League, outside it, and his amusing interactions with other champions, later OCs. Rating likely to go up to M later. Contains profanity and vivid imagery of violence, as well as fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Please be constructive in your feedback. Suggestions on how to improve well- appreciated. Once again, this is my first fanfiction, please try to be nice too? :( (I'm not a native English speaker, so +1 internet cookies?) One more thing, I'm ashamed to admit that I know next to nothing of the actual lore, only obvious stuff, so feel free to point things out! I am, however, reading up on the lore to try and be as consistent as possible with the 'official' version. I will, however, UNLEASH MY IMAGINATION, as the site motto goes, HUEHUEHUE! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends, I'm just a white boy.**

Chapter One: of blood- soaked earth.

It was an overcast day in the Summoners' Rift, occasional rain droplets rippled the surface of the shallow river that split the battlefield in two, diagonally. Golems hummed, wolves howled, while angered champions threw curses, insults and death threats at their adversaries via the inter- team telecom, a peculiar communication system that enabled champions, allied or opposed, to deliver messages telepathically to each other.

A light breeze blew, rustling the tall brush situated at the bank of the river, curtly revealing a flash of white- blonde hair. A low mutter sounded as the entity ducked out of sight once again. Fog of war hung in the air as peculiar, dwarfed, purple creatures wordlessly clashed with blue ones, viciously slamming, stabbing, throwing energy balls, and even shooting cannon balls at one another, until waves upon waves of these nameless, brainless minions ended up cold, mangled and trodden over, becoming one with the blood- soaked soil. The sounds that emanated from this wordless struggle were almost eerie- the banging of shields, the buzz of magic and the ripping of flesh most vile, yet not a single outcry of pain or emotion; a robotic cycle of battle followed by death, repeating itself over and over until any form of intervention took place, shifting the balance of the once perfect equilibrium in the lane. The sounds of battle were slightly muffled, but still more than audible to the man who was promptly tucked into the above- mentioned brush, now still and breathless and ready to pounce, swift calculations coursing through his head.

Vladimir slowly exhaled in annoyance, lazily bringing his gaze down to his pointed, shined mage boots that were slowly getting soaked in the river water. _"Hmph."_ He really hoped that the ordeal would pay off in the end, he was missing out on vital minion kills after all. He patiently adjusted a detachable metal claw on his right index finger. A few more seconds passed, and in his slightest agitation, he scraped the side of his left index finger claw with the fine, dangerously sharp point of his right, creating grinding, continuous sparks. He clicked his tongue in satisfaction.

Stoically keeping himself concealed by the brush, Vladimir ran the fine points of his shiny, metal claws through his uniquely, almost weirdly upswept hair ( that came to a point) to somehow distract himself. To most, Vladimir was a 'creature', (as he somehow came to be known by), of cold, calculative demeanor out on the battlefield, albeit less so (but in the same niche) outside of it. He also had a pronounced, or rather 'refined' style, taste and composture ('refined' being the name given to it by certain females in the League), much to the dislike of the 'MANLIER' champions, who could not fathom how the sleazy gentleman attracted such a decent amount of attention and peaked curiosity, so rarely appearing in the League's social circles; be it Noxian, Piltvolterian, Zaunean, Ionian, or Demacian, he only seemed to make an appearance when needed. He did, nevertheless, have a solid surrounding of champions across the various factions that were willing to interract with him, if he gave it a thought; even a select few Demacians at this surprising time of peace between their state and Noxus.

Zooming out to his alternative Summoner's Rift vision, he observed the small, agile Teemo scampering about the middle lane, frantically slamming down his malicious mushrooms wherever they would do the most damage. Vladimir shuddered at his recollection of the numbing, prickling, burning sensations the mushrooms delivered when stepped on. Meanwhile, Mordekaiser was rolling mightily about the top lane, effortlessly suppressing and pushing the hostile Jax and Ashe out of lane with his devastating sonic booms and resonating strikes that cut and gashed them like metal shards, all this time sustained by Sona's healing noises from her etwahl. The couple had an interesting synergy, Vladimir noticed. The match so far went fairly well for Vladimir and his team- they have already ultimately defeated the enemy team in more than one team fight with little to no casualties (which wasn't a factor for Vladimir as long as he didn't get the short end of the stick), with him securing most kills on his team, much to the discontent and rage of Katarina. 'Lady Du Coteau' (Vladimir relished in watching her lips tighten in evident dislike at this title, bestowed by him every time they met at the fountain) so far managed to die the most on their team and not score a single kill, and in fact rightly blamed this on Vladimir. In bottom lane, he exploited her weak constitution and sustainability for the enemy Udyr and Xin Zhao to jump her, and ambushed the unsuspecting couple securing a seemingly free kill entirely on his own, to violently shred them with what most have grown accustomed to describe as 'twisted, questionable sorcery.' By this point in the match, he already racked up an impressive set of beneficial, temporary artifacts to empower his magic. Hell, he always laughed inwardly at the utter fear and panic that the adversaries' eyes betrayed whenever he lunged for a gruesome dispatch of either them or their teammate. Having stood idly for a whole minute in the damned brush, Vladimir started to doubt whether his calculations were right.

However, his plan suddenly sprang into motion as Xin Zhao, empowered by the essence of the Elder Lizard, accompanied by the lumbering Udyr, sprinted right past his hideout, quickly closing in on Katarina who was coming down the bottom lane, still adressing Vladimir, who was smirking to himself and blatantly ignoring her (in fact, he hadn't used communication once for the whole match). Caught distracted and completely off guard, Katarina ran right into a roaring Udyr, taking a massive fist to the face that snapped her head back and stunned her. Xin Zhao followed up with a three- point talon strike of his fearsome spear that left gaping, squirting punctures in her leather corset and bare abdomen, toppling her to the ground. Gathering up some grit, Katarina quickly recuperated, rolling out of Udyr's crushing stomp; catching her momentum, she blindly threw a blade with a sleight of her hand, still threshing on the ground, the blade embedding itself in Xin's neck with a wet sound as he staggered, choking. Leaping to her feet, she anticipated Udyr's reckless attack. Momentarily closing her eyes and concentrating, Katarina vanished milliseconds before Udyr's mighty fist collided with her lithe form, rematerializing behind him in an explosive burst of energy that visibly shook him as he grunted, dropping to one knee. However, preparing for a pinpoint thrust of her cutlass at Udyr's unprotected back, she felt cold, merciless steel enter her thigh from behind. Dropping to her knees and arching her back, Katarina screamed out in sheer agony as Xin Zhao pulled his spear out. Getting up on his feet, the massive Udyr laughed darkly, delivering a brutal overhead slam with both hands on her head. Sound of tendons snapping, Katarina was flat on the ground, covered in filth and grime, her wounds gushing deep crimson on the ground, now also bleeding amply from her nose and mouth. Annihilated, but still conscious, she caught a flash of scarlet robes as her eyelids flickered over her dulling emerald eyes. The tip of Xin's spear touched her heaving chest. "Your last word, Sinister Bl-"...

Ironically, little did he know it was time for his last words, as a wave of unnaturally potent nausea struck him, instantly bringing metallic- tasting vomit to his mouth, making him double over and convulse. _"Haemo... m-"_, before Udyr could hear him out, Xin Zhao's armor violently tore off in places as thick, swirling torrents of his own blood burst forth from fresh, deep ruptures made by a seemingly invisible hand, swerving and levitating away from his twitching body as the announcer boomed _"GODLIKE!". _Partly dumbfounded by the swift turn of events, Udyr watched Xin Zhao's blueish spirit essence shoot skywards. Following the crimson liquid (that contained bits of flesh, bone and other body tissue) sailing through the air, Udyr's glowing green eyes locked on the Haemomancer standing mere steps away from him, a wicked grin plastered to his face. The most disturbing were his eyes, ablaze with a satanic red glow, so avidly contrasting that of Udyr's, overpowering its intensity.

The gore suspended in mid- air wove around Vladimir's arms that moved in a ritualistic rhythm, bladed fingers twitching zealously, like a spider spinning silk. Seeing him preparing to unleash another atrocious spell, fury boiled up in Udyr as he roared and swung his clenched, bulky fist at the disabled Katarina, seeing this as a last stand option- running from Vladimir would only provide the sadistic bastard game. Once again, his fist mere centimetres away from Katarina's solar plexus (her ribcage would undoubtedly snap inwards at the force), Udyr failed. A solid lump of twisting gore, aimed at his pelted torso, met him with such supernatural force that he was launched into the air, the taste of iron blocking and overwhelming his senses. Evaluating the situation on- spot with a sharp eye, Vladimir precipitated all the blood decorating the scene of strife, transmogrifying it into a pointed shard stemming from the spot perfectly under Udyr's inevitable landing. _"LEGENDARY!" _boomed simultaneously with a satisfying (to Vladimir) noise of ripping impalement, as Udyr drew a last, rasping breath, staring at the deep crimson, ice- like texture protruding from his holed chest, wide- eyed. _"That which runs through you will run you through"_, muttered Vladimir his casual pun, releasing the blood that still lovingly encircled him to cascade to the ground.

Eyeing his deeds with a judging look, Vladimir walked to Katarina's shifting form in the bloodied grass, minions shuffling past him. The unholy glow in his irises slowly died down, they regained their compassionless, light- gray. Looming over Katarina, the smirk on his face dissipated, for a split second the sharp features of his face had a shadow of concern in them as he examined her condition. _"Better stop moving, you have lost a substantial amount of lifeblood." _Katarina, eyes slowly opening, shot him a venomous glare. _"FUCK. Gah! Y-YOU! This... all this. Your fault! Not *cough* l-laning with you AGAIN." _Fuming, she stared him down from her lying position. _"DICK!", _she spat, coughing up more blood. He gave her a piercing, condescending glance that, surprisingly for her, made her look away. Crouching, his elegant robe draping the scarred ground around him, he raised his unnerving hands over her struggling body. Almost instantly, healthy colour started to flood her blanched skin. He offered her a hand, her hateful gaze shifting between the unwelcoming, clawed hand and his emotionless face. Reluctantly, she took it, wincing in irritation at the painful, cutting grasp as Vladimir swiftly pulled her up off the soaked foliage, almost too vigorously for a magic- reliant champion. She looked at him questioningly as he put her arm around his shoulder, and the characterisitic azure beams of the 'Recall' spell encompassed them. _"You are in no condition to fight," _he commented, as if reading her mind. As they awaited extraction, Vladimir chuckled at the Enchanted Crystal Arrow sent by Ashe, soaring past the view distance of a conveniently placed word, flying completely off-target. Katarina said nothing, she just had no more fight left in her. Plus, she knew he made sense, as fucking always. _"Prick" _was all she could muster under her breath before they got swept up by the magical torrent.

Upon landing, she instantly wrenched her arm away, feeling better by the second as the healing magics of the sanctuary started working their wonder. However, before she could even sigh in relief, a shattering, crystalline explosion reverberated through the battleground, colouring the clouded sky on the other end of the battlefield a pale pink, marking their victory. Mere seconds later, the scenery abruptly changed in Vladimir's eyes, to that of an all- too familiar room with a high ceiling and cold, marble- lined walls, lit only by the faint, icy glow of the runes lining the five circular summoning platforms upon which (except for Sona who tended to float) the champions of the victorious team stood. It was over.

Coming down from the platforms, the champions briefly exchanged congratulations, Mordkaiser gave Vladimir a rather pulverizing pat on the shoulder, grumbling _"Well played"._ Vladimir furrowed an eyebrow, _"And rather tactless of the enemy team not to stack Magic Resistance, faced with a team of exclusively mages."_ To this Mordekaiser heaved his oversized Morningstar on his armored shoulder and hummed in agreement, striding out of the lobby. Teemo seemed eager to point something out, so Vladimir prompted him to it with a nod. _"Eh... You know, Vlad. Um. Vladimir. You COULD communicate more with the team... Haha! It's not like your twelve kills and zero deaths are bad at all, but..." _he squeaked, trying to play off his agitation with an unnatural grin. _"I see your point of concern," _Vladimir began in a low, silky tone. _"I simply deemed it unnecessary with the presence of certain imbeciles overly- keen on the communication system, so eager to insult teammates and request the other team to leave notes of complaint about them." _He eyed Katarina. Close to exhuming smoke like a choo-choo train, she tore through the distance between them and slapped Vladimir across the face with a force that echoed through the stone hallways of the Institute of War. Teemo mouthed a silent 'O' while Sona played a low note on her instrument. Vladimir, however, did not flinch. No, scrap that, he didn't even blink. This move was anticipated. A subtle smirk crept onto his lips. _"NOT. In the MOOD. For your SMARTASS BULLSHIT!"_ she hollered in his face and stormed out, long ruby hair flailing in her wake. A puzzled Mundo stood scratching his head at the scene he observed through the open doorway, standing out in the hall.

Barely making noise on the stone floor, Vladimir glided out into the hallway, followed by Teemo scampering away to his yordle business and Sona floating past him, giving him a barely noticeable pat on the back. Mundo, staring dumbfounded at him, with those glowing yellow orbs, barked _"If Mundo was Vladi, Mundo SMAAASH!" _Vladmir curtly nodded and excused himself, walking down the white marble hallway with a destination in mind. Reminiscing for a second, Vladimir thought to himself, _"Tastes much sweeter on the inside than on the outside. Oh, theatrics..." _looking down at the smudge of caked blood on his one claw, the one that drew her blood when he heaved her up during the match. He smiled, slightly hastening his walk.

**That's it, folks! Chapter Two is ready to be uploaded and lies in wait, but not until I get a single review from a non- anonymous lurker. :D**


	2. Interlude

-Interlude-

Sliding through the shadows occupying the the grand corridor haphazardly, a shrouded figure stalked the man ahead, adorned in scarlet, retro attire of lordly figures of the past. Descending the grand staircase, the shadow of a man mirrored each and every motion and sway of Vladimir's body, with a jester's grace.

Noises from down the corridor reached Vladimir's ear, he frowned. Hopefully, it didn't get to another drinking contest between Tryndamere and Olaf, the last one ended with a brawl between the two as well as Gragas and Garen. Not one for noisy places, Vladimir had taken his leave, wetting everyone's feet with his essence, 'swimming' through the brawling crowd and out the door. Pests. Vladimir enjoyed the somewhat tranquil bar that Gragas opened up right in the Institute's hallways, it was a decent place to sit in, thinking over a past match, maybe even discussing it with the participants who miraculously always ended up there after the match.

Approaching the heavy oak doors, Lulu burst out through them, giggling and scuttling away, absurdly large, pointed mage hat swaying wildly, as an infuriated Ziggs and Tristana gave chase. The latter two froze, their expressions changing to slight fear as Vladimir strode past, shaking his head in disapproval. The moment passed and the two resumed their chase, booming down the corridor. Just at the threshold of the bar, from where a pleasant, melodical jazz sounded, Vladimir abruptly turned, looking far down the hall, eyes gleaming a dangerous red. The shadowy figure hiding at the exact spot froze, breath catching in his windpipe. Slowly, but surely, literally a sparring pitch away, Vladimir made a gesture, running a clawed finger across his throat and walked into the bar, slamming the heavy doors behind him.

_"Son of a..."_ the shadowed man growled, taking his leave through a spacious arc that lead outside, to the green expansive fields and valleys surrounding the Institute.


	3. Chapter 2

**Sup, I decided to upload the next chapter, BECAUSE I'M A GOOD PERSON. Got the implication? ^.-**

****Chapter Two: of the small joys in life.

The bar was moderately filled with champions of the League. From the ceiling hung four spectating orbs, broadcasting the live Noxus- Demacia match. Several pairs of eyes shot to him, some neutral, fewer welcoming, and yet fewer hostile, as Vladimir coiled his way between lush, fine dark leather sofas and mahogany wood lounge tables, treading silently on the wooden tiled floor, through the dimly lit auditorium. On stage, an assembly of musicians, all wearing purple, black- striped frocks, sat on high chairs, producing a harmonious flow of sounds with a piano, a trombone, a double bass, and a set of drums. Somewhat pleasant, Vladimir remarked, as the music was incessant, but not insistent, allowing the assembly of champions to converse at ease. He stopped at the seemingly empty bar stand, which had hollow glass pannels that glowed dimly. Upon closer inspection, one could see that they had torch bugs inside them. Gragas, wearing a tuxedo and a pair of shades, slowly turned to him. Bushy eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, Gragas slammed the glass pannel with his pudgy palm. Instantly, the torchbugs sprang to life, illuminating the whole length of the bar stand that stretched across the entire length of the room. _"Tha's bettar."_ Casting his gaze to the side, Vladimir noticed Riven perched on a bar stool at the far end of the bar stand, staring down at its wooden surface, sipping ale from a mug. _"Vlad boy, wha' can I get ya?"_

_"The usual, Gragas." _Gragas laughed, turning his back on Vladimir and ducking down, searching through the cupboard. _"Y'know, I onle keep restockin' on it for you, no other soul seems to like th'stuff," _he said. Vladimir wasn't surprised. _"What of them other souls that cannot handle anything of a volume higher than that of ale." _Gragas chuckled to this, got up and started mixing the drink masterfully. _"Y'don' say! Actually, missy Morgana likes ter play with strong drinks! So does th'sheriff, Ketlyn, although th'poor lass always ends up lookin' hammered!" _Giving the decanter one final swirl, Gragas poured its deep crimson contents into a wine glass, a third of it already filled with a crystal clear, mischievously sparkling liquid. The moment the two liquids touched, the peculiar mixture instantly became a shade of dark amber. Gently enough for a man of his size, Gragas placed the glass in front of Vladimir, reaching down and topping off the drink with a single ice cube. _"Dark Lady, monsieur". _Vladimir nodded, reaching into the inner pocket of his robes and placing three heavy silver coins before Gragas. He swiftly grabbed them and walked off in Riven's direction.

Slowly, Vladimir brought the glass to his lips and took a solid gulp, emptying a third of the glass at once. He stood there for a second, savouring the burning, sweet after-taste. Satisfied, he turned around and walked back into the darker auditorium, taking a seat at a, once again, SEEMINGLY empty, comfortable couch in the corner of the room. Taking a small sip of his liquor, he placed the glass on the low table in front of him and allowed himself to lounge, placing his hands behind his head and laying back in the leather folds of the couch. His eyes, however, shrouded by the darkness of the room, were drawn to the unnaturally shifting shadow right next to him on the couch. Feeling the balance of the couch shift right under him as the shadow swiftly moved closer to him, Vladimir brought his hand up in the blink of an eye, powerfully gripping what felt like a neck. A surprised, feminine voice rang out, confirming Vladimir's theory of what exactly he was gripping, as the vocal cords vibrated under his grasp. He smiled as a woman, wearing a tight, somewhat revealing, leather body suit, materialised hovering over him, out of thin air. Still smiling, Vladimir chuckled, speaking in a seductive tone, _"Get a grip on yourself, we are not alone here." _The blue- skinned woman laughed an extremely disturbing, cackling laugh, drilling Vladimir with her luminescent, yellow eyes. She stopped laughing abruptly and Vladimir released her. _"Ugh, I merely wanted to rip your heart out. You're no fun!" _she puckered her lips, taking a seat dangerously close to him and placing her elbow on his shoulder, running her sharp nails through his hair. Vladimir visibly paid no mind to her flirtatious behaviour, lazily staring at the ceiling draped in purple curtains.

_"How does pretty boy fare?" _Evelynn asked, cupping his chin with her hand and forcefully bringing him to look at her. _"Going about his pretty boy business," _he replied dully. Hesitantly, she removed herself from him, already having crept half- way up onto his lap. _"Hmm. Something troubles_ _you._" He eyed her, trying his best to keep a straight face. Perceptive little bitch. _"Nothing at all." _She silently pressed the issue, cocking her head and staring into his eyes. He sighed, looking away in defeat. _"I need your help with a little something." _Evelynn smiled, revealing a row of monstrous, sharp teeth. _"Anything for my candyman. But..." _she watched the frown on his face grow. Throwing her head back, she laughed heartily. _"D'aww! No, you silly pervert, I won't ask you for THAT!" _Vladimir sighed in relief. _"Would a monetary compensation for your time suffice?"_ he asked. She licked her lips, casting her gaze down in thought. _"Well, seeing as you ask so nicely..." _She chuckled, watching his usual, bored expression creep back onto his face. She loved how the cheeky bastard always gets what he wants. _"Fine. What's the matter? What nuisance bothers my Vladi boy so much he requires my assistance?"_

_"A certain Talon. I believe today is the second time he attempted to survey my activity. From tomorrow and onwards, I want you to trail me whenever I am roaming outdoors, that is, if you are not preoccupied with a match. Once we are able to corner him in a location relatively free of public, consider your task done. I shall pay you then." _Evelynn tsked. _"Oh Vlad, what is it with the punctuality regarding monetary transfers... I'll get the sly man, don't you worry." _Vladimir visibly relaxed, his tensed shoulders slunk back onto the couch. He reached out for his drink, emptying the remaining contents of the glass down his throat. _"Very well. I'll see you..."_

_"Leaving already? A spectacular show of weakness," _grumbled a distinctly familiar voice from behind the couch. Slowly turning, Vladimir faced the hulking form of Udyr, sharing the couch with Nidalee, Ashe and Tryndamere. _"But of course, it is also because I cower before the glory of your strength, oh mighty Udyr!" _Vladimir replied smugly, smirking. Nidalee giggled, earning a shove from Ashe. Udyr growled. Tryndamere spoke up, _"So I heard you trashed my wife's team earlier today, hmm? Wait 'till you go one on one against me any time soon, I'll show you..." "Wait, don't you say that every single time and end up breaking the summoner link half- way through the game because of a bad score?" _said Sarah Fortune, who happened to be strutting by. Not waiting for an answer, she laughed and walked on, winking to Vladimir. Tryndamere's face went red, distinguishable in the dark room. _"Well, I shall spare you no further embarassment and be on my way," _said Vladimir, laughing inwardly. Getting up, he noticed that Evelynn had already vanished out of sight. Turning around one last time, he adressed Ashe in a respectful tone. _"Ashe," _he motioned to her, cocking his head slightly. She looked up to him with a questioning look on her face, as well as the other three. He waited for about five seconds to add to the dramatic effect, noticing a few other champions sitting nearby turn their attention to the conversation. All of a sudden, his face became contorted with laughter he couldn't hold back. _"To hit moving targets, you aim slightly before them."_

Turning on his heels, Vladimir victoriously walked out of the bar as half the room exploded in hysterical laughter. He would have sworn he felt the back of his robes heat up from all the hate in Ashe's glare. Out through the heavy wooden doors, Vladimir was back in the marble hallways. The dying sun's rays flooded the grand, authoritative passageways of the Institute with a juicy, crimson shade of peachy orange. Having just stepped out of the dark room, Vladimir squinted. _"Down you go, ugly." _Deciding against wasting any time, Vladimir hastily walked out onto the rustling, grassy Institute grounds. Reaching inside his robe's inner pocket, he took out a rune stone that pulsed with a red glow. Bringing it up to his mouth, Vladimir chanted quietly. The rune lit up brighter. Nodding to himself, Vladimir awaited teleportation. Clanking his 'claws' on the little stone, Vladimir's ears registered the sounds of battle. Turning, he located the source. Far off in the distance, Master Yi was sparring with his apprentice, Wukong. He seemed to be effortlessly deflecting the ape man's increasingly furious blows, mostly with the flat of his sword, wielding it with one hand. _"Damn, he is bad."_

Just as the thought went through his mind, Vladimir felt the familiar, brutal pull at his innards. The next moment, he was standing in a despersing cloud of crystal dust, settling on the grass around him. He brought his gaze up to the starry sky. The sun had already settled in his dominion, a moonlit valley, housing an abandoned, timeless temple situated in the highlands between Noxus and the Tempest Flats. Treading softly through the grass, Vladimir pridefully looked over the solitary structure towering over him, as he drew closer. A structure where his life as a hemomancer had truly first begun, upon his encounter with Dmitri, his 'dead' master, who now conveniently resided in the back of Vladimir's conscience, quite literally. Distorted memories flooded him as he neared the heavy, tall door of the entrance. _"You actually remember me, child. Just as I was about to get worried."_ The old man's voice rebounded ethereally inside Vladimir's skullbox. _"Don't you ever think for a second I have forgotten you, master. I owe you my existence." _The ethereal voice hummed in approval. _"I sense something special that awaits you. Shortly. I shall not further disturb your mind's pace, child. And oh, it does not threaten us." _Vladimir relaxed, letting the floating ball of his essence, that he had already drawn from his bloodstream, splash on the grass. Opening the door, that cringed loudly, Vladimir stepped inside and shut it behind him, leaving him standing in complete darkness.


	4. Chapter 3

**YO, this chapter is rated M, y'all! Contains adult themes. If you've got the imagination for it, you must understand that Vladimir is not acting in line with the way I portrayed him earlier because of his fatigue. Kthx, now read! D:**

Chapter 3: of the dying embers

Letting the shadows, the settling dust and the deafening silence envelope him, Vladimir stood still for a good few minutes, surveying his surroundings for unwanted presence. The grand, circular chamber he stood in was not simply large, it was so immense that its volume threatened to devour any petty humans who dared to walk under its dome. The concave ceiling was so high that it could barely be seen at daytime, now it was cloaked in impenetrable darkness hanging over the room, the walls seeming to stretch upwards into nothingness. Moonlight slipped into the temple through circular, windowless panels that housed rusty metal insignias of this once majestic institution. The bluish moonlight captivated the shimmering dust particles that cascaded to the floor in a painfully slow dance. The former glory of the temple was long gone. The stone floor was covered in moss, while dark stains lined the weathered marble walls. Echoes of squeaking bats, coming from far above, was the only thing that occasionally broke the still of the muffled atmosphere. In the middle of the auditorium, which were really rows upon rows of sitting stone tablets, encircling the centre of the chamber, there stood a hulking, decrepit statue of a woman with horns, four arms and massive breasts, lined with cracks and turned green by age. Vladimir often wondered just what exactly this place of worship had to offer back in the day. He remembered asking Dmitri about it, only to get an indefinite answer, something to do with the blood queen Akasha. The old man didn't know his stuff.

Assured of his solitude, he moved on. Walking past the statue, which stood on a stone elevation, Vladimir yawned lazily, walking and scraping the ancient stone with his claws, leaving bouncing sparks in his wake. Stretching thoroughly, he neared heavy- looking double doors on the other end of the chamber. Applying some strength, Vladimir pushed the doors open with a genuine huff- he was exhausted. He now stood in richly decorated and sophisticated living quarters. The unwelcoming, cold stone walls gleamed at him. The room was unnecessarily large for a single person, but Vladimir couldn't complain. Turning on his heels, he shut the doors behind him with a loud clank. The spacious room, having no connection to the outside world, except for the two holes in the ceiling intended for ventilation, was dimly lit by an open fireplace (with a cooking spit over it) in the middle, from where dying embers projected vibrating orange shafts of light onto the cold walls. A king- sized bed stood centered against the wall on the other end of the room, along with a fully- equipped writing table, housing a wide array of quills, ink bottles and a mess of discarded parchment. Worn, red- green tapestry hung from the walls as well as a deer and a bear bust. The bumpy stone floor was sporadically covered with various animal hides and pelts. A long, draped dining table, sporting silver kitchenware and lit candles, stretched away from Vladimir on his left, accompanied by a completely filled wine shelf and a food cupboard. Parallel to his right, closer to the opposite wall, stood a heavy, white oak wardrobe. Closer to him, a decent- sized, inbuilt, stone Jacuzzi occupied the corner of the room, its cold marble bottom adorned with a thin sheet of mist. Surprisingly, despite multiple sources of heat, the room was still chilly, but just right for Vladimir. The man didn't mind sleeping under several blankets, as long as he would not be rolling around in sweat- soaked bed sheets at night.

Slumping his shoulders, Vladimir lumbered over to his bed and threw himself down onto it unceremoniously. "_Breathe in. Breathe out." _He produced a long, drawn- out sigh. "_Seriously, that Evelynn REALLY likes to take her magic outside the Fields…" _He, the epitome of magical vampirism, felt drained. How ironic. Sitting up hesitantly, he took the metal claws off his fingers one by one, almost lovingly. He thought about giving each one a unique name, but nothing better than Amber, Lucy, Kate, or Jennifer visited his mind, so he decided to hold back on that. Amber actually sounded quite nice, but still very much like a wench. Getting up, he walked over to his writing table and produced a flask with antiseptic. Reaching under the bed, he took out a small metal basin and poured the clear liquid into it. Placing the basin on the table, he picked up his detached metal beauties and threw them inside. Instantly, a hissing noise was heard, the few smudges of caked blood and grime that encrusted the metal were gone. Very lazily and with much effort, he managed to pull his boots off and wrinkled his nose. No, he did not like cheese, even remotely. Nevertheless, the nails of his long, pale fingers and toes were neatly filed.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Vladimir remembered the need to relight the fireplace. He walked over to a chair, picking up a spell tome lying on it. With his other hand, he scooped up a log from the pile next to the fireplace and threw it in. Opening the spell tome, he quickly flipped through the pages with a disgusted look on his face. _"Ah, there." _Holding his hand up over the fireplace, where the embers were giving off their last pulses of heat, he shifted his gaze unsurely between the book and his hand. _"In… Incinerado?" _The instant the last syllable escaped his lips, a gust of flame escaped his palm as he leapt back with a girlish squeal, the fireplace coming back to life with a new fury. With a look of pride on his face that would put Fiora to shame, he strutted around the fireplace to the wine shelf, pouring himself a glass. _"A jack of all trades, oh yes. That, we truly are," _he mumbled haughtily to himself, savoring the delicate bittersweet of _Demacion Sauvignon_. Walking back to the chair, he plopped himself down, taking small sips. _"Brand could even take a tip or two."_

_"Pff. Pompous fool."_

His hand bringing the wine glass up froze, never quite reaching his lips. Vladimir furrowed his eyebrows. He thought he had just heard some entity randomly insult him, out of the blue. _"Dmitri."_

_"…"_

_"DMITRI."_

_"…Oh. Yes, my apprentice?" _The voice sounded distant and echoing, but right there, like a needle holding his brain in place.

_"Did you just call me a pompous fool?"_

_"…No, I believe I did not. I have not been lucid since the last time we spoke."_

_"When you told me something lies in wait for me… What exactly did you mean by 'shortly'?_

A cold, ghostly, nerve- tickling chuckle ensued. Vladimir absolutely despised it.

_"I've told you countless times, boy. I can only sense a presence and its aura."_

_"Well. I discovered no presence."_ At that, Vladimir felt the slightest snap in his head, a tiny leap of electricity. This meant that Dmitri was 'done here' and zoned out. And to that, Vladimir was thankful. He did not quite like the idea of sharing his head with anyone, not just Dmitri. Luckily, despite the numerous points of mutual disagreement between the two, the old man made the experience more or less bearable- he was somewhat understanding, never too condescending and not too insistent. Most notably, though, Dmitri was never intrusive in Vladimir's personal affairs and always rather preferred to keep his quiet, until prompted by Vladimir.

_"Humph. I guess the fatigue is getting the better of me," _he muttered, getting up and placing the empty glass on his writing table. He solidly needed to chill. The process of chilling could be initiated nowhere else, but in the Jacuzzi. Stepping into the deep stone basin, Vladimir felt cold droplets of water materialize on his feet. Picking up the metal cork, he plugged it into the drainage hole. Tampering a bit with a lever in the wall, he heard a quiet, abrupt hum beyond the wall, signaling that the pump was ready. A gold pipe segment was located on the wall, hung just over the Jacuzzi. Uncorking it with his last bits of strength, Vladimir stepped out of the basin, watching the foaming water start to fill it at a steady pace. Watching the water cascade down, a sudden thirst tugged at his insides, reminding him of his unsavory needs. Not for water, but for the blood of another person to saturate him. He could go about for a week feeling okay, but beyond that… He didn't toy with his limits, for he already knew from experience it wasn't a good idea; a gruesome killing spree he had no control over would most likely ensue. Right now, he was two days in, and the thirst would only intensify. But he had learnt a trick or two, he could easily overpower it at this stage. Unfortunately, League matches were only simulations, where he got to play around with his enemies' life essence for an hour or two, only to be thrown back into harsh reality at the end of it. The blood he harvested would vanish from his system just like any injuries he sustained. Although, it did seem to do the trick, in those precious moments out on the battlefield.

Leaning over the filled basin, Vladimir turned the lever, halting the water. Looking at the silvery, rippling surface for a moment or two, he reached inside his robes and undid the straps holding it in place. The crimson garment slid off his form, falling to the floor around his feet. He let his body feel the cold air, to get adjusted to the chill, preparing for what was to come. The only thing still saving him some modesty was a loincloth, a shade darker than his pale skin. It, and some blood- stained bandaging that ran down both his thighs to the knees, safely kept his butt and family jewels concealed. Elsewhere, he was in nude skin. His body was chiseled- abs and chest muscles quite pronounced, but not bulky, giving him a downwards- facing triangle archetype build. This was helped by his well- developed back muscles that gave him his proud posture. His limbs, the lower arms and legs, were well- toned and lithe. Gathering up the courage, Vladimir quickly descended into the ice- cold water, neck- deep. He sat absolutely still on a stone step in the splashing water, eyes closed, facial muscles looking tensed. His body and mind were screaming at him, telling him to get out. But he sat through it and slowly adjusted to the nerve- shattering cold, finally feeling the soothing waves of throbbing relaxation flood his body.

Hearing a playful, very feminine giggle right next to him, Vladimir's eyes shot open. Shock punched the air out of his lungs. Trying with all his power of will to keep his cool and not to gasp, the best he managed was to stare, at the gorgeous woman sat across him in the Jacuzzi, with awkwardly furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes and a half- open mouth, as if he'd just smoked the wonder plant. At this, she burst out in genuine, callous laughter, throwing her head back and placing her elbows on the stone edge behind her, nearly revealing her ample breasts as the water splashed just below her collar bones, not leaving much to the baffled Vladimir's imagination. Getting his emotions and face under control, he quickly eyed her entire form only to confirm that she was fully naked. Easily noticing this, she giggled, holding his chin with one hand. _"Le…LeBla… Emilia! How preposterous that you chose to… Meet me under these circumstances!" _Vladimir stammered. The woman sat, eyeing him up and down while he tried to put his usual, bored expression back on, failing miserably.

The features of her face were elegantly etched and mysterious, just as the large, blue eyes that ran over every bit of him. She put on a devilish smile, now running her foot up and down the back of his leg. Finally, his defenses crumbled, as an uncontrollable smile spread across his face and he started openly eyeing her form. _"It's been a very, very long time, Vladimir," _LeBlanc purred, playing with her long, lavender hair. _"Is that so, Emilia? What forced you into this rash conclusion?"_ He decided he will at least try to play tough, he had the right to, after her long, unexplained absence from his life. _"Do you come here in need of my talents, once again trying to mask your act, but oh so cheaply?"_

_"Yes. I do."_ She replied, her demeanor immediately becoming serious, she still held his face, now with both hands, her leg draped over his thigh. _"But…", _her finely cut facial features, seemingly incapable of the act, softened up. _"You deserve some sort of an apology for my unjustified behavior…" _She smiled mischievously. Unable to deny his aroused manhood the desired contact any longer, he roughly pulled her up and perched her on his thighs, drawing a surprised gasp from her. The irises of his eyes immediately started to fill with a swirling, red flame as he looked up at her, her entire, smooth body pressed up against his, her skin radiating with a purple hue, her breasts cushioning his neck from the front. He only stared into her eyes, as she did in his. Their lips started drawing closer, he felt the water droop off her body onto his. A millisecond before their lips collided, she vaporized right before him, the golden dust of her illusion littering him. Her callous laughter rang through the temple, slowly vanishing. Growling, he saw a sealed note sail through the air and he caught it. **The Black Rose requires your audition.**


End file.
